One Shot Mania : Tragedies
by My Chemical Romance's Bandit
Summary: Okay, so basically a load of tragedies that are one-shots. Obviously. I will put up some more once I come up with them, and when I get time!
1. The Ghost Of You

**May is just a little girl who is being abused by her parents. I did write the poem in this, if I didn't, I would tell you otherwise, but I did.**

**Also, I know that the first bit of the poem is pathetic, but it gets better towards the end! ;)**

***JEANETTE'S POV***

I open my book, I remember writing it for this particular reason, it's a poem about my life. As I lay it down on May's pillow, I look up, and see Simon smiling down at me. Hopefully this poem will show May that she should tell someone before its too late.  
Like it was for me...

*MAY'S POV*

After I emerge from the bathroom, with a pile of tissues held on my broken nose, I crash on my bed. I hear a rustle come from beneath my pillow that my parents had bought for visitors sake. I lift it up, and pull out an envelope. On it is written, 'For May, Before It's Too Late'  
With that, I open it, and begin reading.

' _My name is Jean,_

_I was ten and three,_

_This is what life,_

_Brought to me._

_I had a brother,_

_He was ten and five,_

_To please our parents,_

_He would often strive._

_But he needed not,_

_For they loved his so,_

_They ignored me-sat in the corner,_

_Moping with woe._

_As years went by,_

_I knew my brother less,_

_His once kept and tidy hair,_

_Was now a constant mess._

* * *

That reminds me of my older sister, unfortunately, she died when she took a bullet for me - I got blamed.

_He always went out,_

_To where I knew not,_

_As more time passed,_

_He thought I'd forgot._

_One day I grew annoyed,_

_My patience I lost,_

_Why is it that he ignored me,_

_When I needed him most?_

_I followed him out,_

_And across the town,_

_Where he met two tall men,_

_In big ugly gowns._

_Simon looked around,_

_His eyes large and sad,_

_I knew then at that moment,_

_This was somewhere very bad._

_He approached the men,_

_With small, anxious steps,_

_If only I had known,_

_What was to happen next._

_And in an instant,_

_Their hands flew from their sides,_

_If I had known,_

_I would've made him stay inside._

_All of the men,_

_Seemed to be high,_

_As poor Simon was beaten,_

_As hours flew by._

That last bit reminds me of my normal day.

_I could no longer take it,  
So I began to run,  
If I could make it home,_  
_Maybe help would soon come._  
_But before I ran,_  
_I stole a glance back,_  
_To see Simon's arm break,_  
_With an audible 'crack!'_  
_I began to rush over,_  
_But he saw, and told me no,_  
_I began backing up,_  
_And I ran to go._  
_But I didn't see,_  
_That which Simon did,_  
_A car fast approaching,_  
_That the shadows had hid._  
_I brace myself,_  
_For the pain to come,_  
_Like I do when I get beaten senseless, _  
_When our parents are drunk._

But it never came.

* * *

I take a moment to wipe a tear from my eye, this reminds me of my older sister, how she saw the man aiming his gun at me, and jumped in front of the bullet to save me. I quickly continue reading. It goes on about her holding her brothers hand whilst he dies. Then it has her running home, and explaining to her drunken father about what had happened, that's when a new person comes in, they have a different style of handwriting, and I continue reading from Simon's point of view.  
_  
My father yells,  
He grabs Jean's legs,  
She screams,  
And yells,  
She cries,  
And begs.  
He hits her, and kicks her,  
And yells at her more,  
She finally gets free,  
And makes a dash for the door.  
But he's already locked it,  
And she starts to bawl,  
I watch as Father throws her,  
Hard at the wall.  
She falls to the floor,  
With several bones broken,  
And Father continues,  
With more evil words spoken.  
He drops her on the wooden floor,  
His rage continues,  
'Till I can bear no more.  
I watch as our father,  
Continues to beat,  
And once he's done,  
She pulls an amazing feat.  
She stands and heads over,  
To the kitchen drawers,  
I can tell she can't take it,  
Any more._

* * *

Suddenly, I hear my Mother coming down the hallway, I push the poem under my pillow, and slide into the closet.  
But my Mother finds me.  
I can't back up any more as she stares down at me, smiling. But her eyes show her hatred, I have learned to live with it, but its still scary.  
I turn, and try to dart between her legs, but she grabs me, and throws me against the wall, cussing like a sailor the whole time.

_She falls to the floor,  
With several bones broken,  
And Father continues,  
With more evil words spoken._

I pull myself to my feet. This is the first time I think my Mother might be right, I recall overhearing her earlier after I left the room with my broken nose, that she said to my Father " she's strong for an eleven year old, I'll give 'er that, but still, she's a waste of space, a slut, and the sooner she's out of our lives the better." My Father wallked out of the door there and then. My Mother, my own Mother said that to me. She is right that I'm strong, I live on a get-tough-or-get-killed basis, so I have to be. But I am NOT a slut, whatever that is, or a waste of space!  
Whilst I am thinking this, my Mother has approached me - swaying slightly - and is looking at me like I am a piece of meat, and she is a starving dingo. I lean against the wall, then I push myself forward slightly, and stand up my full height, which is eye-level with her.  
I look her in the eyes.  
I see her hate of me, her anger at something I didn't do, how she wants to kill me, slowly and painfully, a bit at a time. I gulp, and allow a small smile to spread across my lips.  
Big mistake.  
My Mother screams, and backhands me so hard its a wonder my neck hasn't broken, as I'm sent flying across the room. I hit my head against the wall, and the world goes all fuzzy.  
I find myself going through the familiar sensation of everything being a blur. I feel myself being dragged, then I fell weightless.  
Oh... Dear...  
This is the place I am brought if my Mother thinks I have something absolutely awful.  
I am in the basement. And, from the feel of things, my collar has been put on a hook.  
Like always, my vision comes back considerably at this thought, so does the pain.  
I see my Mother walking towards me, with something sharp and shiny on both of her knuckles.  
Damn it.  
I feel intense pain as my Mother hits me repeatedly with her spike-studded gloves. Eventually, each blow just fades into the next, and I see no more.

***LATER THAT NIGHT***  
I feel intense pain as tears fall freely down my cheeks. I think it through, and hobble over to the kitchen drawers. Wondering about what Jean did when she got beaten like this.  
I rummage about for a bit, until my fingers glance along the sharp edges of a knife, cutting them, I smile.  
I pull it out, and position it over my wrist  
_'Dear Lord, please watch over me. If I die, take me with you.'_  
With that, I plunge the knife into my wrist.  
The last thing I see is some crimson blood on the window pane, illuminated by the moonlight...

***NORMAL POV***

Police found her body the next morning, when neighbours decided to report that they had heard screaming the night before, and had woken up to see blood on the kitchen window.  
They never found little May Johnson's Mother.

* * *

***AT THE FUNERAL***

Mr. Johnson turned up for the funeral. All clad in black.  
After the last of the guests had gone, he opened his jacket and pulled out the poem from Jean.

"I know you probably didn't read the end of this. So I thought you should hear it."  
And he started reading, from exactly the place where May had left off.

"_She Falls to the floor,_

_With several bones broken,_

_As Father continues,_

_With more evil words spoken_."

"That was from Simon. This is Jean again."

"

_As I stumbled over to the kitchen drawers,  
I made my choice,  
I wanted no more._

_I grabbed a knife,_  
_Craving to leave,_  
_I slashed my wrist,_  
_And found my peace._

_'Now I lay me down to sleep,  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,  
And if I die before I wake,  
I pray the Lord my soul to take.'_

_I took my life, that very night,_  
_With hurt, depression, and a butchers knife._  
_I left the hurt,_  
_I left the pain,_  
_My blood on the moonlit window pane._

_My name is Jean,_  
_I was ten an three,_  
_That night my Father,_  
_Murdered me._

_I am the girl from your dreams,  
In the white dress,  
I hear all your screams,  
I am depressed._

_Don't forget me,_  
_But don't hold on,_  
_There's life for you to see,_  
_Don't let your past beat you,_  
_Please don't end up like me._  
_You'll survive,_  
_You'll get through,_  
_Don't let her get the best of you,_

_For you are deep down just like me,  
But it doesn't mean you can't be free._

_So wave goodbye to the ghost of your past,_  
_Cause your life' will be over so very fast._  
_You were hurt just like me,_  
_I'm your shadow...don't you see?_

_Please heed my words,_  
_Don't hang on,_  
_But don't let go,_  
_Or time will go by so very slow._  
_I found peace in death,_  
_You will too,_  
_But think, before you breathe your last breath._

_Do you want death to bring this to you too?"_

With that, he walked away. Whilst his daughter - May - watched down on him from heaven, like her Father, she had tears streaming down her face, as Jean, and her brother - Simon - lead her into the light.

And there she found the peace that life with-held from her.

And there - for the first time in years, she saw the one person in life that stood next to her, pulled her through hard times.

There she was finally re-united with the one person who loved her - her sister.

* * *

_**The End.**_


	2. Hope, And All It's Miseries

**Okay, so I wrote this for a 500 words contest, but I decided Iaway as well put it up on here, so... Viola!**

**Hope, And All It's Miseries**

* * *

**"**Mommy, why do we write the letters to daddy?" asked the young chipmunk quietly.

"So that Daddy knows we're safe, sweetie." replied the young mother.

Chase asked no more questions and got back to his writing, as did Sasha. Brittany watched her two children before she started her letter.

_'Dearest Alvin, I hope you read his letter... I hope you read it soon... But I know you won't read it yet._

_You'd be so proud of our kids, they started school last week.'_

Brittany felt tears brimming her eyes, and went downstairs. She cleaned herself up, when her two children burst through the door.

"Mommy, you lied, Daddy isn't coming home, is he?" asked Sasha in a quiet voice.

"Of course he is-"

"Mommy, whats the truth? What happened to Daddy?" said Chase.

"The truth?"

"Yes."

"Sit down, and I'll tell you then."

Both children sat.

"As you know, when your Daddy was a singer, he went off to sing at an army camp."

"Why?" asked Sasha.

"So the soldiers didn't get lonely."

"Okay."

"Anyway, I couldn't go, because I was pregnant with you two. But your Daddy promised he'd be back before I knew it.

"I waited, and after three days of silence, turned on the tv. What I saw was The army base where your daddy had been singing, it had been bombed. There were two people missing, and everyone had evacuated, leaving on boat to get here. But the boat went down. No signal, communications, nada. And we thought that your daddy had died.

"I got so worried I called the stork up and told him to bring you two early."

The children rolled their eyes.

"That's when we found out who the missing people where."

"It was Aunty Jeanette and Uncle Simon, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Chase, it was."

"But I thought you said they went to heaven?"

"They did say that sweetie, but your daddy didn't believe them.

He managed to escape in a lifeboat, and he was found."

"So why isn't he here?"

"Because Sasha, he went in the wrong direction, and was then a prisoner of war."

"Is that why we write the letters?"

"Yes Chase."

"Does he still get them?"

"He used to Sasha, but not any more."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought this was over. But last week I found out it happened again."

"What happened again?" asked Sasha.

There was a loud 'Knock, knock, knock' on the front door. Eliza stood up, and walked to the door, turning to her children.

"Your daddy went missing. Alvin hasn't been found." she said, her eyes teary.

She wiped them, and opened the door, standing outside was a man with a pair of jeans and his signature red sweatshirt on with the yellow A printed across it, his red cap on his head with a warm smile on his face.

"Hey Britt, remember me?"

"A-A-Alvin?"

The chipmunk smile widened, and said

"I missed you, baby."


	3. We Never Knew

**Okay, so this is a 500 words story I wrote for a contest, feel free to review!**

* * *

**We Never Knew...  
**

***Simon's POV***

Originally, we thought it was an accident.

Jeanette _seemed_ happy enough.

But when they opened her locker in school... Well, it changed my perspective. We found books, many books, all with sad endings and little annotations saying 'I agree' and 'she had the right idea'. Previously it made no sense, and I pushed my enquiries farther.

And then I found them.

It was a slip of paper bearing a vague resemblance to a birth certificate, but in all honesty, it was a death warrant. The date it was filled in was _before_ the date of death.

What was my best friend doing with this?

If only I could still ask her.

Then, an epiphany occurred to me.

_Her diary._

I rummaged about under her bed, ignoring rotten apple cores and dirty socks, when my hands latched around the leather-bound cover I felt myself lighten with slight hope.

I put it on her bed, and sat next to it, not wanting to intrude into my best friends final retreat, her last secrets, but needing to know what had occurred.

Turning the first page I notice an envelope, addressed to none other than myself.

Inside it, a single piece of paper, with Lucy's messy handwriting scared all over it.

I begin to read.

_Drowning in a darkness,_

_Of unrelenting despair,_

_Believing the lies I hear,_

_And seeing truths that aren't there._

_Looking back I see a broken lie,_

_A broken life,_

_A world of hate and resentment,_

_But all I want is to die._

_I see my knife,_

_It sits in my hand,_

_I think about life,_

_Why couldn't they understand?_

_"Hey emo" they called me,_

_I turned to my name,_

_"Goth girl" they teased,_

_Because apparently I'm different,_

_Because I'm not the same._

_They laughed and they whooped,_

_As I walked on by,_

_And made slitting actions across their wrists,_

_No wonder I want to die._

_I look in the mirror,_

_And see only my mask,_

_She knows how I feel,_

_she has no need to ask._

_And then she smiles, whilst I cry,_

_And she is brave whilst I am shy._

_But she is only my mask, she is not real_

_And she is not perfect, _

_They know how I feel._

_And that's why as I look into her eyes, _

_I know I don't mind,_

_No-one will care,_

_I was never really there._

_I look at my knife,_

_And then at my canvas,_

_my previous tries,_

_my unheard cries._

_And I decide._

_I turn the blade, aim it right,_

_And gaze upon the stars tonight,_

_Knowing that I will never wake,_

_For my life I am about to take._

_And just before my final try,_

_I must suppose, _

_This means goodbye._

And bellow that, another note.

_'Si, live your life, be happy. Don't let me hold you back, and remember... I live on in your thoughts.'_

And - for the first time in my life - I let myself cry.


	4. Hang 'Em High

**S'up guys? Sorry I haven't updated my stories very much, I just haven't had time! Anyway, I got bored in English and wrote this, so see what my English teacher rambling does to my writing! **

**'Munks essentially normal people!**

* * *

**Hang 'Em High**

So here I am, fifteen, and running for my life. Yet again. But this time Alvin is beside me, his cinnamon hair whipping against his pale face, the sunlight leaving us, I can see the pained expression on his face, the hurt in his amber eyes.

We duck inside an abandoned warehouse with pigeons cooing from the rafters when Alvin falls to the ground with a groan. I bend over and place my hand against his neck, trying to staunch the blood escaping the open wound. I look into his eyes, and see them turn dark. Though not from the low twilight period the day is hitting, from the light that's faded from inside him... He lives no longer.

They did this to him.

When the Tonton came, that's when it happened. With their long trench coats and shaded sunglasses. They kidnapped Alvin and - for the very first time - found a way to make us like them. I broke him out, now they're after us.

I listen intently, I can hear them coming. I scurry over to Alvin, we hide behind a single bale of hay in the room. As Alvin produces two shotguns I am shocked at his deathlike complexion and trembling hands as he offers a gun to me. His eyes are almost completely engulfed in shadows, now he looks a lot like Edward from the 'Twilight' book I found that's a century old - a lot like a vampire. As I hide the gun inside my jacket Alvin embraces me, and I hug his cold body, with his stony, lifeless heart and he whispers with an icy breath, "Keep running."

The ancient door crumples, Alvin locks his gun, and urges me out the back door. I'm practically flying towards the old motorbike left outside. Already I can feel the scorching heat from the dense climate searing my skin. I jump onto the saddle, desperately kicking the engine to start , it stutters to life and I roar the engine, riding nimbly on.

The wind whips my face, and I look back for a second, in time to see Alvin being hurled through the back wall.

Eventually, I hit the breaks, too exhausted to continue I stumble to rest under a gnarled tree, for the first time truly appreciating the constellations and wishing for a more peaceful existence.

I allow my eyes to drift over to Alvin's smiling silhouette. I know I should be surprised at the speed in which he reached me, but I'm just so thrilled that he's returned, alive. He has the speed of a vampire now. I must remember that.

I hear the footsteps of the Tonton, Alvin looks at me with concern, then smiles, and pulls me to my feet with nonpareil grace.

I can see the army now, I realize we have no hope of surviving this, this is our final stand, I smile at Alvin, and say in a voice devoid of emotion,

"Time to stop running."


	5. A Joke Too Far

**_A Joke Too Far_**

* * *

**Alvin didn't realize it, but it was really the joke that pushed Simon over the edge.**

**Well, he learnt it the hard way.**

**I'd better explain...**

* * *

You see, it was actually a sunny day. Not like in the movies where whenever something bad is going to happen, the weather shows it. No, it was a sunny day at the time.

Me, Alvin and Simon were just on our way to school. Walking casually, even Simon wasn't too fussed about school; it was a Friday after all.

"So, Si? Had any more problems with Ryan?"

Simon just shook his head, eyes glued to the pavement.

This seemed to be all Alvin needed, and he let the subject drop.

"So? What have you got today, Theo?" Alvin addressed me, completely oblivious to the fact that there was something off with Simon.

"Well, I have maths, music, science and cooking. And I'm allowed to miss last lesson, which is English, because there's a cook coming in to teach us some more techniques in cooking, so we have it double." I explain.

"What about you, Si?"

Simon muttered, "Science, history, geography, maths, PE."

Alvin laughed. "Boy man, I can see why you're feeling so glum! Your day's gonna be aw-ful!"

Still, I knew there must be something more. Simon liked those lessons. Not PE, but the rest of them he was fine with.

All too soon, and not soon soon enough, the school gates loomed on us. We just walked in, and split up for our separate lessons.

My lessons went fine.

Alvin's did too.

Apparently, Simon's didn't.

At recess, we all met up at the bench in the courtyard like we always do. Except Simon was late. And Alvin was too.

That's when I heard the chanting.

_"Throw it! Throw it! Throw it!"_

Without anything better to do, I wandered over to see what was going on.

And there he was.

Alvin, with all his jock friends. Ryan, Xander, Cal, Reggie, and a whole bunch of them whose names I still don't know.

And there was Simon, backed up against a wall, bag open, with his work and papers all over the floor, almost a meter from him.

I was piecing it together when I saw Alvin holding a ball, and then throwing it at Simon, who didn't even flinch. Just stared at him.

I saw Simon's glasses go flying. I heard a crack as they shattered somewhere nearby. And I saw Simon wipe his now bloody nose on hsi sleeve, and stand again.

"Ooh! The nerd wants more!" Someone yelled, and several other balls were thrown at him in quick succession. The first one hit him, and threw him back against the wall, where the rest hit him, and left him mercilessly.

I wanted to move. I _needed_ to move. I needed to help Simon! But I couldn't. I then understood the so often term used in stories 'rooted to the spot' I couldn't move. I had to, but I couldn't.

The bell went, and I was shoved away by harsh hands, but unable to resist against the push, I couldn't turn back to help Simon.

I didn't see Simon at lunch. And he didn't walk home with me. Neither did Alvin.

When I got home, i ran upstairs to Dave, who yelled at me to get ready, as we would be leaving for a concert in fifteen minutes. I threw myself up the stairs, going two at a time, and skidded round the corner to Simon's room.

I knocked.

"Simon?"

No reply. I heard a muffled sound, but there was no reply after that.

After a good ten minutes had been wasted, I hurried back to my room, and quickly changed.

"Fellas! We gotta go!" Yelled Dave. Alvin shot out of his room, down the stairs, and was waiting in the front seat of the car before I even made it to the stairs.

Simon followed slowly behind me.

Me and Simon sat in the back seat of the car. I looked up at him, and whispered an 'are you alright?' to him, but he put on an obviously fake smile and nodded his head.

"Simon? You're a terrible liar."

"And you sound like Dave."

"Yeah, but I can't help that. I'm worried."

"Well don't be. I'm fine. Really."

But even as he ruffled the fur on my head, I knew that wasn't the case.

I looked up at him, there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

"Simon? Why did they pick on you?"

Simon shrugs his shoulders, and hangs his head sadly. I know I've just about reached the borders of his emotions, so I shut up for the rest of the journey.

* * *

The concert goes really well. We peform some of our older songs like 'get 'munked' and 'how we roll' and some of out newer stuff, like 'club can't handle me' and 'dynamite' and the show was spectacular. One of our biggest yet.

Its a shame Simon didn't feel all the joy and elation I did.

We were just heading off, after me and Alvin had wished the audience a goodnight.

Then, the lights went out. And only a single blue spotlight lit up the stage. the audience gasped. Realizing that it held Simon. I went to rush over to him, but Dave put a hand on my shoulder and told me to leave him be, I listened.

Simon stood up tall, his bass in hand, and looked at the audience.

"Listen, I know some of us go through some sh*t sometimes. Sometimes, it even makes up feel like giving up, but remember one thing Los Angeles!" Simon paused, and once the audience stopped murming said in a loud voice that easily filled the massive stadium, "Violence is never the answer!"

The crowd cheered louder.

"They're gonna try and make you pretty. What you gonna do about it?"

Cheers.

"They're gonna tell you how to live your life. What you gonna do about it?"

More cheers, louder this time.

"Your gonna say, 'you will not change me!' Los Angeles, remember this, and even if it this alone!"

Silence. Dead silence.

Simon spoke quietly, but everyone heard his voice anyway.

"Don't take anybody's sh*t, and_ never_, **_never_** let them take you alive!"

Wild cheering.

"Los Angeles! You're perfect! And This song is called Famous Last Words!"

_Now I know,_

_That I can't make you stay!_

_But where's your heart?_

_But where's your heart?_

_But where's your...?_

_And I know,_

_There's nothing I can say,_

_To change that part,_

_To change that part,_

_To change..._

_So many,_

_Bright lights to cast a shadow!_

_But can I speak?_

_Is it hard understanding?_

_I'm incomplete!_

_A life that's so demanding,_

_I get so weak!_

_A love that's so demanding,_

_I can't speak!_

_I am not afraid to keep on living!_

_I am not afraid to walk this world alone!_

_Honey if you stay I'll be forgiven!_

_Nothing you can say can stop me going home!_

_Can you see my eyes are shining bright?_

_'Cause I'm out here on the other side,_

_Of a jet-black hotel mirror,_

_And I'm so weak!_

_Is it hard understanding?_

_I'm incomplete?_

_A love that's so demanding..._

_I get weak!_

_I not afraid to keep on living!_

_I am not afriad to walk this world alone!_

_Honey if you stay_

_I'll be forgiven!_

_Nothing you can say can stop me going home!_

_These bright lights have always blinded me.._

_These bright lights have always blinded..._

_Me..._

_I say!_

_I see you lying next to me_

_With words I thought I'd never speak,_

_Awake and unafraid,_

_Alseep or dead?_

I walk onto stage with Jeanette, and we sing a abckup for Simon.

_(How can I see? I see you lying)_

_'Cause I see you lying next to me,_

_(How can I see? i see you lying)_

_With words I thought I'd never speak,_

_(How can I see? I see you lying)_

_Awake, and unafraid,_

_(How can I see? I see you lying)_

_Asleep or dead?_

_'Cause I see you lying next to me,_

_With words I thought I'd never speak,_

_Awake and unafraid,_

_Asleep or dead?_

Then we sing 'I am not afraids' in the background, whilst he sings up front with the 'or dead's.

_(Or dead!)_

_I am not afraid to keep on living,_

_I am not afraid to walk this world alone,_

_(Or dead!)_

_Honey if you stay I'll be forgiven,_

_Nothing you can say can stop me going home,_

_(Or dead!)_

_I am not afraid to keep on living!_

_I am not afraid to walk this world alone,_

_(Or dead!)_

_Honey if you stay, I'll be forgiven!_

_Nothing you can say can stop me going home..._

And just like that, Simon was loved by millions.


End file.
